One Magic Moment
by Wolvertique
Summary: Rogue was left behind while the other women went out on dates. She called in Magneto out of desperation.
1. The Night in Question

Rogue paced the length of her room. She wore her usual uniform. Unlike the others, she didn't have a date for tonight.

In a surge of anger and defiance, earlier, she had called Magneto to meet her at the mansion. She was beginning to regret having done so now. She wasn't like the other X-women. Her powers shut her out, kept her from the most casual of touches, made her an outcast among outcasts. The only men she had ever touched skin to skin were the ones she fought before and after joining the X-men, with the exception of Wolverine after she had saved Mariko's life and her first boyfriend, who she sent into a coma.

In fact, she was resentful of other women in general, and the X-women in particular. Why did they get to have so much, and she so little? Why did Jean get any man she looked at? And how dare Kitty get Kurt and Piotr?! The show-off midget bitch already had more than Rogue ever could dream of. Why did she have to be the only X-man to find all her love in romance novels?

Deep down, she knew she wasn't being fair. But her hatred retorted that she didn't really care.

Rogue turned to her mirror. Her angry green eyes flashed into her reflection's. She wasn't bad looking. She was powerful. Why didn't anyone want her?

She hit the wall full-force, anger driving her reaction. Why bother? She'd better tell Magneto to leave once he arrived. That way she wouldn't have to live with the rejection of every man in the universe, as well as the ones she lived with. Then she could pretend that somewhere out there, someone wanted her and dreamed of her.

She sat, defeated. She was pathetic, really, hoping her dreams would be fulfilled by a psychotic villain, anyway. Why did she ever call him anyway?

--Because you think he's cute, and you hoped it would finally work out.

But it won't.

--It's better to try, isn't it?

Not when you get your heart slammed into the ground.

--What if it would work out, though, and because you didn't try, you never get any part of what you want?

Torn, tormented, she didn't notice the sound of her window opening. She did, however, feel warmth and pressure on her left shoulder. She pulled away, hard, and looked up to see Magneto in full costume looking down at her, red helmet hiding most of his face. "Did I come at a bad time?" he asked.

"I don't know." She got up and started pacing around. Her teddy bear and Arctic fox looked up at her with their black plastic eyes. "I'm not sure why I asked you here."

He stood still, watching and waiting. "You said it was because you were interested in my cause, the cause of mutant freedom."

"Freedom?" She laughed. "I'd never have freedom even if you were king of the universe, Magneto. Just look at me." She flung her arms wide. "I have to cover every inch of skin I can because if I touch someone, they suffer and so do I. Is that freedom?" She stalked closer to him, anger fueling every step. "I can't pet a cat, hold a baby, shake my friends' hands, or even take my change from the cashier at a store without being insulated from every touch. Is that freedom? I'll never be able to have a lover without one of those damned 'full body' condoms from that stupid movie I watched a couple years ago … I don't remember the name of it, but I was the only one NOT laughing at that scene!"

"Naked Gun."

"What?" She stopped a few feet from him, hands shaking violently.

"The movie. Naked Gun." He smiled, gentle and sad.

She considered it briefly. "Okay. Anyway, the point is that now, I don't even get to dream about being touched by anybody. I'm never going to get any control over my powers. And everyone else seems to have someone. Kitty and Piotr are finally dating, and Jean's landed Scott."

"You sound especially bitter about her. Why?" He sat on the bed and smoothed his red cape over the covers.

She frowned. "I don't know. I guess it seems like every man I'm interested in would rather be near her than any other woman in the world. Besides, she's pretty, she's powerful, she can be touched, and everyone loves her. I don't get that. I think maybe I'm pretty and powerful, but I'm alone, and I'm lonely, and it feels like it will never change! Do you have any idea what it's like to be on the outside of everything, never getting a chance to be a part of what everyone else takes for granted, not even being able to dream of fitting in?" She collapsed onto the floor, sitting down hard with her legs crossed, and flopped her torso forward so her face touched the green carpet.

He did not speak for a few minutes, though he made some soft noises of cloth over cloth. He moved around, ending up in front of her mirror. It irritated her that he would not respond to her words, but she was not going to do anything about it.

"Get up," he said at last.

"Get up?" She moved only her head, raising her face from the rug to see a changed Magneto. She sat up straight.

He had removed his helmet and gloves. Now, he was wearing a nice black suit, dress shoes, and was pinning a small rose in his buttonhole at her mirror. His red cape swirled about his form attractively. "Yes. You're not dressed properly."

She rose to her full height. "Dressed for what?"

"Our date." He calmly adjusted his tie and smiled at his reflection. "You have fifteen minutes. Wear something nice." He turned and walked to the door. "I will return in that time. Be ready."

Fifteen minutes? A date? What? She frantically checked the clock on her dresser, then threw her closet doors open. Riots of color met her gaze, but a black dress she'd bought for a dance she never got to because she left to join the X-men stood out. (Mystique had sent it along a year later, after she begged a little.) It was mid-calf length, sleeveless, and miraculously preserved in its bag from the dry cleaners. She skinned out of her uniform and started getting ready.

She was fastening the clasp of her necklace when he walked back into her room. She turned around, a little shy, and pirouetted. "Well?"

The dress left her arms, shoulders, and upper chest bare. The velvet bodice fell straight to just below her waistline. The skirt was made of a stiff, shiny material which flared a little, then fell straight past the small bow at her right hip. She had put on some shiny green earrings and pulled her hair up. The emerald heart of her necklace rested a few inches below her neck. She even had some long black gloves on, stretching nearly to her shoulders.

He touched his fingers to his lips. "Enchanting." He took her hand and touched the glove lightly. "You can leave these behind."

"Are you sure?"

He looked at her seriously. "Trust me."

She kept her eyes on him, suspicious, as she slowly peeled the gloves from her arms. "I don't know that I should."

"My dear." He walked up to her and tapped the side of his head. "I am not a fool. I have fought with the X-men countless times. I have invented devices to stop the strongest mind reader known to mutants the world over. Did you really think I could not come up with something that could stop you?" He took her naked hand in his.

Her power did not activate. She might as well have been touching a beach ball. 

He put her hand on his wrist. She felt a solid band there and pushed his sleeve up. Inside was a gray strip of metal, about the size of an average man's watch. She touched it and looked into his gray eyes, which regarded her with amused patience.

"May we go now, my dear? I do not want to be late for our meal." She nodded, a little stunned, as he escorted her out of the mansion and into a silver Mercedes.

The restaurant was a sparkling paradise. Somehow, he had gotten a reservation at On The Waterfront, a place with dark wood paneling, live piano playing, one whole wall of glass so the patrons could look out onto the water, and a small dance floor. They spoke about music, they danced, they ate. The night was full of touch. Warm. Normal. Perfect. Magic.

He took her back, then, and she hesitated at the door. "Come in with me?"

"Are you certain?"

She blushed a little. "I don't want the night to end just yet. Please."

He considered her, white hair gleaming in the light from the door, shadowed eyes looking her up and down, and nodded.

She took him up to her room. He stopped at the door and gave her a gentle kiss, hands clasped. She opened the door. "Come in?"

He frowned. "Is this what you want?"

She took a few paces into the room, then turned back, skirt swirling around her legs. "Yes."

"Are you certain you know what you're saying?"

She pulled him into the room and held him close. "I said I don't want this night to end. I meant it, Magneto."

"Erik."

She nodded. "Erik. I want it all. If it's just going to be once, I want it to be here, and you, and now. Unless you don't want me."

He closed his eyes and breathed a couple of times, then opened them again and looked at her in her elegant dress, burning her skin with his regard. "My dear, I do not believe anyone could not want you." He kissed her again, firmly, as his hands grazed her shoulders.

He made slow, patient love to her, despite her protests in frustration, and she eased into sleep afterward, his warm body next to hers.

*****************************

She woke up late the next morning, of course, and sleepily reached out to him. He had been by her side. She touched her teddy bear instead.

She opened her eyes. Her yellow bedspread covered her body and no one else's. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment.

Oh well, she thought. He isn't one of the X-men and long-distance relationships don't really work out, do they?

She rolled over and looked for the clock on her dresser. There was a rose there and an envelope. His rose from last night!

Sitting up, covers pulled to her chest, she savored the smell of the rose and then read the envelope.

"Dear Rogue,

"You were right. I am not the king of the universe, and even if I were, not only you, but many others would not be freed by my assuming said title.

"However, you were also wrong. I can give you some freedom, despite not being royalty.

"--Erik"

She opened it and took what was inside it out. Her mouth fell open. Joy, disbelief, surprise, sadness, all welled up from her soul and were expelled in a wail and then furious tears. She sobbed, unable to bear the rushing feelings within.

***************************

"Rogue?" Kitty phased through the wall quickly, the heartwrenching sounds from the woman's room drawing her in. She saw Rogue crying, moaning in despair, holding a rose in one hand and in the other, a strip of gray metal that was about the size of Kurt's watch.


	2. In the Cage

**Now that Rogue has gotten some freedom, thanks to Magneto, what is she going to do with it? Read on to find out.**

I slipped around the corner and paused. No one was in the hallway. No one watching me. I quietly turned the lab door handle and eased inside. No creaks. No squeaks. No noises. I as in.

Hank was hanging upside down from a round black bar attached to the ceiling. His goggles covered most of his face. He carefully extended a slender pipette toward a small test tube in a rack, letting one glowing green drop of liquid fall into the purple oily goo it contained. He then pulled his body upward and grabbed the bar with his hands as the fluids met with a loud bang. Blue fog flowed out of the tube and swiftly filled the room.

I jumped as the fluid exploded and he peered at me through the spreading blue fog. "Rogue?" He swung from bar to bar until he dropped gracefully to his feet before me. I clapped. "You're just amazing sometimes, Hank."

He bowed deeply. "I endeavor to please."

"I hear you got some information on my special project." I yawned. He took my arm and walked me away from the site of his fog experiment to the more technological area of the lab, where buttons blinked and random beeps punctuated the silence.

"I have done my utmost to reveal some of its secrets. It has proven to be a most interesting specimen." He pulled the gray strip of metal Magneto had given me several months ago out of a locked drawer in his desk.

Why didn't I use it, you ask? Well, I had held onto it a while hoping he'd come back or something, I guess. Typical man. Never called. Never wrote. Hung up on me the one time I got through to him on the phone.

I was also kinda scared. What if I started using it and men just tried taking advantage of me? How'd I know if someone was really interested in me or my body? Would it work on me? What if it needed batteries or something? Could someone else wear it, or only certain people? It's kind of like being a bird with a broken wing. I had a hard time believing I could really heal and fly again.

So I decided to swear Hank to secrecy and tell him about it so he could research it for me. He was fascinated, of course, and vowed to not tell anyone anything unless I said it was okay just for the opportunity to see how it worked. A few days ago, he'd sent me a note saying he had some information for me.

Now, he held the metal before my eyes. "This is an ingenious device. I wish Magneto published his scientific findings in a peer reviewed journal. It has many applications for mutants who suffer from various difficulties with their unique abilities." He pulled back my sleeve and then slapped it to my naked left wrist. The metal wrapped around it and tightened until it fit perfectly. "The material appears to be almost alive, but is actually conducting itself in accord with magnetic principles. It stifles the application of your powers, either to the person wearing it or by you." He carefully tapped a finger above my wrist. My absorption powers did not turn on. He touched me again, longer this time. Nothing happened. He grinned, stripped my glove off, and enthusiastically shook my hand with both of his.

"God, Hank!" I pretended to flinch and pulled my hand from his grip, shaking it out. "You've got very strong fingers there."

He smiled smugly. "Some of us have it and some of us don't."

"So, what about long-term effects? Does it need re-charging or anything?" I pulled myself onto a stool and swung my legs around to the rung beneath.

"Of that, I am not certain, but I believe prudence dictates that it does not. You stated that he created it anticipating a combat situation, correct?" I nodded. He continued. "Then I would venture to say that creating a device which needs re-charging, which one anticipates using in combat, is foolhardy. Magneto has great intelligence, perhaps greater than I realized, studying this creation. I doubt he would fashion it merely to have it give out in time of need."

I took it off and scowled. "I still don't know that I can trust it, Hank." I pulled my glove back on. "I'm not sure I can trust other people with it, either."

"What do you mean?" He leaped onto another stool nearby and watched as I covered my body again and put the metal back in my pocket.

I hesitated. I didn't want to say anything mean about my friends, but…

"Well, what if they think it means something it doesn't? I mean, I've been flirting with people for a while for fun, but I never meant any of it to go beyond just playing. You know? It was safe because we couldn't do anything about it. Now, I don't know if I should stop doing it now that I can touch people. It's like, once I gain the ability to touch others, they'll find out what a sham I really am." I blushed and stared at a small blue container. It looked a little like a mini flying saucer.

He rested his head in his hands. "Are you so positive that the others do not understand that you have been behaving toward them in a flirtatious fashion based on your inability to make physical contact?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "For once, Hank, speak English. Or French. I understand those, but not all this stuff you're spouting."

He sighed melodramatically. "This is why our language is deteriorating. Very well. How do you know that the other X-men don't understand that your flirting is based in your inability to touch them? They may well understand more than you realize. I myself recognized your behavior for what it was."

"You did?" I couldn't believe it. I thought I'd been so careful.

"Of course. No one believes that if you gained the power to touch others and not drain them, you would become interested in sexual intercourse with everyone you have gently teased." He thought for a moment. "Except, perhaps, horny teenagers. And who cares what they think?"

I laughed. "Advertising executives do."

He winked. "You're not an advertising executive, my dear." He sighed and beckoned me close. "*Vous êtes trés charmante, cheri.* But there is no need to worry. Now, go change and tell the others. Take charge of your life. Come back tonight, if you like, and tell me how it all went. I confess some interest in how things work out."

I pulled the metal out of my pocket and shook my head. This was the whole reason I came here, to gain control of my powers. I couldn't be scared of it once I found a way to do it.

I slapped it into place around my right wrist this time, taking off my gloves. "**Merci beaucoup, mon ami. Tu es trés beau, sais-tu?**" I took his hand in mine again, kissing the back of it gently, then walked to the door. He said nothing. Was something wrong with him? I paused, my hand on the door knob.

When I looked back, he was staring at his hand. A perfect, round tear ran down his left cheek, staining his fur. He said conversationally, "No one has called me beautiful since I experienced my mutagenic transformation, Rogue. I find it a trifle overwhelming. Please leave so I may deal with my raging emotions."

I quietly closed the door behind me, leaving him alone, confused and excited. I had to plan my first outfit. But I still worried about Hank and thought about him as I made my way to my room and started turning my closet upside down.

*You are very charming, dear. (non-intimate form of "you")*

**Thank you, my friend. You are very beautiful/handsome, you know? (intimate form of "you")**


	3. Brilliance

Dr. Henry McCoy sat alone in his lab, typing up some notes he had been neglecting frightfully, in an attempt to forget about Rogue. It was not helping him disregard her, he admitted after an hour of trying, but it was getting his paperwork done. He therefore bowed to the inevitable, continued typing, and thought about her instead.

She probably would not come back tonight and speak with him about her day's escapades. He did hear, after an hour or so, odd outbursts of random cheering, so he assumed she was being well-received in her new state. He was delighted for her. She deserved the opportunity to connect with other beings that he and so many others took for granted.

He sighed. He admitted to some jealousy of whichever man finally captured her attention. One would, no doubt. She was a young woman with a romantic nature and now, with all barriers to intimate congress removed, the outcome was a foregone conclusion. It would not be him, certainly, but there would be someone.

Yet he wished she still needed his aid. He remembered the long hours in the lab, separating chemicals in the centrifuge, sometimes playing the piano while she sang and sometimes listening to her CDs as they worked together, all golden in his mind.

Perhaps she would return sometimes so he could remain a part of her new life, though not as her beloved. She and he had been amicable acquaintances before their mutual project of the past several months.

Bobby Drake ran into the lab. His eyes lit up when he saw Hank. "Hey, come on outside! Rogue's having her glove burning ceremony!"

"Glove burning?" Hank closed the notebook and rubbed his eyes. "Whose idea was this?"

Bobby shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're partying and burning things. I don't even have to work to make people laugh. It's great!"

He grinned and shrugged off his lab coat. Why not? He had been there since nearly the beginning. He had to see the end.

***************************

Out by the fire pit, it seemed that everyone who had ever known Rogue and who could travel was milling around and talking. Hank spied Scott in the back of the crowd, probably coordinating security. As he approached, he saw the dais someone had built for Rogue, about a foot above the main attraction. Bobby pushed him over to the dais, where Rogue, Jubilee, Logan, Kurt, and Professor X waited with boxes which had once contained Rogue's supplies of gloves, leggings, and other cover-ups. Rogue looked brilliantly happy, wearing only a blue T-shirt and some faded jean shorts, holding her brown box to her chest. She waved excitedly at him and began speaking.

The noises from the crowd died down slowly at first, but quickly after Logan extended his claws and growled, "Shut up!" Crude, yet quite effective.

"I wanted everyone to see how happy I am today. Thank you, everyone, who helped make this day possible, but especially Hank McCoy." She walked over and took his hand. He smiled and waved to the people, glad for once that his face was covered with fur so his blushes were hidden from all prying eyes. "This wonderful man spent several months making sure that I'd be safe, and that you would, too. Give him a hand." She dropped his, and he took a bow, almost overwhelmed by the force of the claps from the group in his honor. He struggled to remain unmoved. He had shed enough tears this day.

"Now, light 'em up! Burn them down!" She gestured and leaped down to the pit, pulling a pack of matches from her pocket. Logan, Kurt, and Jubilee followed, and soon the assorted piles of brilliant gold and green, black and blue were wreathed in flame. He watched in awe. He knew Rogue would be free some day, but had not expected it to be so soon. He continued observing from the raised platform as she greeted guests and was greeted by them.

She did not need him here, sitting alone, now that her goal was met. He got one final glimpse at the fire before he turned and left. He still had work to do.

"Where ya off to so fast, Hank?" 

His internal disturbance was sufficient that the words from behind were his first warning that Logan was present. He gave an undignified hop and turned. The man's scent had changed as well, throwing him off further. He did not smell of old cigars and beer, but fresh pine and wood smoke. He cursed himself. "Just heading back to my laboratory."

"Ya wouldn't be tryin' to upset the guest of honor, right?" Logan's blue eyes challenged him. "Be a shame for Rogue to think her friends don't care about her." He snorted. "And don't try any of that 'she doesn't want me here' garbage. You know she does. Wouldn't start without you."

Hank sighed. "It would appear my presence is required for the full festivities, then."

"Sure is. If I can't get out of it, you can't."

"You desired to? What other commitments did you make?" Hank moved slowly, matching the shorter man's pace.

"None. Just don't like crowds." Logan stuck his hand in his shirt pocket absently, then flung it out again. "Come on."

They rejoined the merriment in full swing, and Hank soon was called upon to play keyboards as various X-men decided to show off their vocal talents, or lack thereof in some cases. He forgot in time that he had ever wanted to lose himself in work. This was fantastic fun!


End file.
